


Harvest Claw

by Argonometra



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Gen, No Plot/Plotless, Non-Canonical Violence, Origin Story, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 21:04:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8911891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Argonometra/pseuds/Argonometra
Summary: Pyrrha has the worst day of her life.
At least she isn't alone.





	

She sits on the bench, shaking from shock, a blanket wrapped carefully around her. Every so often, teachers come over to comfort her, ask her how she’s feeling, tell her how heroic she’s been.

Pyrrha doesn’t feel heroic. She’s just fifteen, just a little girl huddling into her daemon’s feathers, wishing that the night air wasn’t so _cold._

Carmanor’s wings are spattered with blood- rusty red clotting over variegated bronze- and the smell of it, both real and remembered, makes her feel like throwing up again. But she doesn’t let go, doesn’t let her hold weaken even for a second. She’s him, and he’s her. They’re all the other’s got.

A student- one of the many checked over by the paramedics and declared healthy- comes over and sits. The girl is a total stranger, but her glance is short and respectful. She doesn’t crowd Pyrrha or say anything stupid, like ‘You were _awesome!_ ’ or ‘What was it like?’

Pyrrha doesn’t want to remember what it was like. No one else would want to know, if they had any idea.

_There was a gunshot. Screaming, sobbing- heavy steps echoing across the linoleum. A gun was levelled at her face. She stared at it- the trigger tightened-_

_She_ breathed. _The world seemed to fall away and come into clarity simultaneously. Her chest burned. Her veins were **agitated** , like sparks in a forge. Her fingers twitched uselessly. The fear disappeared, running down her arm, **coalescing-**_

_And the bullet curled away from its original path, burning through the air-_

_She **was** the metal, shining with heat, cutting like a knife-bloodironfrailskin, specks of titanium-_

_Someone whispered,_ ‘No.’

_-The bullet curled away, and entered the shooter’s throat._

_Blood sprayed across Pyrrha, and her knees went weak. She collapsed to the ground._

The girl’s cat-daemon strokes her cheek with its tail, and she looks again at Pyrrha.

“They asked me to talk to you,” she said. Her tone was careful, straightforward- stating a fact.

Pyrrha nodded.

“Do you- I mean, if you don’t want to, that’s fine, I’ll go away.” The girl bit her lip. “But- they gave me a cloth. I think they want you to clean him.”

Another nod. The girl placed a damp cloth on the bench.

“Are you- will you- be okay?”

Pyrrha looks up, meeting the girl’s eyes. Her voice is shaky, but it makes a transparent attempt at reassurance.

“Yeah- I- it’s not your fault. Thanks.”

That last word seems pitiful, but it’s all she can think of. If she lets herself express any more emotion, she’ll break down. She already has once.

_…Maybe this night will never end._

The girl recognizes the word for what it is; _goodbye._ She stands up and walks away, rejoining the shoal of people not far off.

Carmanor steps off her lap, coiling his talons around a metal slat. She mechanically reaches up and starts to brush the blood off.


End file.
